Haunted
by doc100
Summary: "Be sure your sins will find you out." This story explores Briggs' reaction to Charlie finding out about his involvement in Juan Badillo's murder. Story takes place at the end of the episode "The Head of the Pig." Please read the author's notes for further information. While primarily about Charlie & Briggs, the story will involve all the characters of Graceland.
1. Prologue

**Haunted** by doc

_**Summary:**__ Be sure your sins will find you out._

_**Description:**__ This story explores Briggs' reaction to Charlie finding out about his involvement in Juan Badillo's murder. The original premise was to be a one-shot reaction piece, which takes place immediately after the camera breaks to credits in the episode "The Head of the Pig." __After the amazing shower and kitchen scenes, where Briggs &amp; Charlie discuss the pregnancy, I was disheartened to have that damn tape pop back up! I started this story at that time, but was unable to finish due to my hectic schedule. The following episode, "Home," was like a sucker punch to my gut. I literally felt sick by the end and trashed my partially written story. A few days passed and I began to contrive endings for the storyline that "I could live with." I was also concerned that viewer numbers might not allow for renewal of the show, so I decided to retrieve my "one-shot" and develop it into a longer story utilizing one of my potential three endings. I don't know if I'll have the time or inclination to write the other two, but so far this ending is my favorite._

_**Rating:**__ Teen. I debated about this rating, as the story at times has a more mature theme. That said, the words are more poetic than graphic, so I decided to post it here._

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_**PLEASE READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTES!**_

_**AN 1: **__Hello everyone, this is my first __GRACELAND__ story, but I have written extensively for other fandoms. I __**LOVE **__GRACELAND__ and adore the couple of Charlie and Briggs! That being said, I can't imagine a more tricky relationship, based on Briggs' behaviors and falsehoods in the first season. I say this both as explanation and warning! My previous readers knew to "trust me" in the care of a favorite couple, so I will plead with you to do the same-__**TRUST ME**__ and let the story develop. I promise not to disappoint those of you who adore this complex couple. I do, however, guarantee an emotional rollercoaster ride! As a "token of goodwill," I'm including a prologue, which will hopefully quell any misgivings about my eventual intent for this story._

_**AN 2**__: I'm a physician who practices neonatology (newborn intensive care). If I should happen to use a medical term or diagnosis you don't understand, please don't hesitate to send me a note requesting further explanation._

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own Graceland or any of the characters from my favorite shows. I don't profit from them for sure, I wish! I just take them out and play with them on occasion before replacing them safe and sound back on the shelf. The "fade song" ending this chapter is "Pieces" from the album __End of Silence__ by Red._

_Special thanks to my terrific beta, philliesfan1000, the finder and keeper of all things related to spelling and grammar._

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**Haunted**

_"You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily or have sharp edges or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. __**But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand.**__" - The Velveteen Rabbit_

"_My biggest fear is that eventually you will see me the way I see myself." – Unknown_

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**Prologue**

_Sometime far in the future…_

She feels his tremors first, as his movements jar her from sleep. His breathing is rapid, his gasps desperately searching for the air essential to life. His throaty moans break the overwhelming silence of the dark room, "NO, nooo…please…don't go…"

Lifting her head from his chest, she can barely make out his features in these early moments before dawn. She raises a hand to his face, cupping his brow, drawing a soothing path across his forehead with the tips of her fingers. Her lips trace the scar on his left cheek with the gossamer touch of a butterfly's wing. She's been through these same events hundreds of times over the years. In the beginning, his nightmares were nearly continuous, happening several times each night. He'd contritely offered to sleep alone, but she'd had none of it. Her presence seemed to soothe and lessen the duration and intensity of his terrors, so she had dutifully remained by his side, forsaking slumber and peace for the sinewy strength and enigma that was uniquely him.

His arms clutch her tightly to his side, refusing to release his ever-present bedrock of asylum; that, too, had changed over the years. In the beginning, he'd pushed her away, as he fought off his demons. He often left bruises and marks in his wake, as he wrestled for his very soul. In the morning, his sorrowful eyes begged forgiveness, as he caressed the pain of his inflictions from her skin. It was a small price for her to pay for the treasure of holding his heart.

His cries break her from her musings, as she shushes away the growing noise, afraid he'll rouse the rest of the house. His breaths come in fits and starts, as he gasps under his weighty burden.

"Sweetheart," she whispers gently into his ear, her warm breath causing eruptions of shudders to quake through his body. When he fails to stir from the dream, she tries again, "Paul, baby, you're having a nightmare."

He startles awake with a grunt, then rubs away the sleep from his eyes. She is well acquainted with this behavior too, watching as he shields his eyes from her unwavering and intuitive stare, in an attempt to hide the embarrassment of being caught in such a fragile state. After all these years, he still fears the possibility of seeing disgust, or worse yet, pity, in her gaze. She stills his hand, gently turning his face toward her, nothing but love and tenderness shining through her eyes.

"I woke you up," he mumbles with a slur, his voice still thick with slumber.

"It's okay," her voice is soft as silk, and smooth as honey, caressing away his protective walls of unease.

He nods an acknowledgment, but remains tense under her weight. She shifts slightly, settling the crown of her head under his chin, giving him a moment to compose himself. Her fingers meander a lazy path down his side, until she reaches the edge of his t-shirt. Deftly tunneling underneath to find the warmth of his skin, she begins the well-traveled journey of unwinding his nightmares. She had mastered her tried and true technique in the dark hours, as his apparitions danced on the walls of their bedroom.

He bristles at first, aware of her intentions, but then relaxes under the familiar comfort of her ministrations. She waits until his breathing evens out and his own hands begin to wander.

"You want to tell me what's turning around in that head of yours?" She smiles at the familiar turn of phrase.

"I never remember my dreams, baby," clearly he recalls that conversation too. His hands become more demanding and insistent in their search of his target, as he attempts to derail her probing questions.

She pushes up on one knee and languidly stretches atop his body, slowly melting her skin to his, inch by inch. Her chin comes to rest on her crossed forearms atop his chest, an indulgent smile playing on her lips. She will grant him his reprieve this once, not wanting to sour his mood so early in their vacation holiday.

"That's a good thing. It didn't seem like you were in a happpppy plaaaace," she shivers as his roughened fingertips brush up the delicate skin of her back, taking her short nightgown along for the ride.

He watches her eyelids drift shut under the wave of pleasure pulsing through her body. When she glances his way again, her eyes are glazed and fluid with emotion. He holds her gaze intently, allowing the truth of his words to envelop her, "THIS…is my happy place."

The corner of her mouth turns up at the memory of his first verbal attempt to express his love. He learned to say the words over the years, but those first spoken sentiments are still among her favorites. She arches over him, lips a hair's breadth from his, so he feels her every word, "I love you, too, baby."

He melds his lips to hers, and flips them in a single smooth motion. As his weight presses her into the bed, he removes her silken garment with a single practiced stroke. The softness of the gown evokes a memory of a time now past. She had worn it on their tenth anniversary, as a special gift to him. To this day, no one would dare call his wife girlie. She still preferred t-shirts and jeans to ruffles and lace, but on occasion, she could surprise him. For their tenth anniversary, she had emerged from their bathroom in a short silken nightgown the color and richness of heavy cream….

"Paul?" She tilts her face to the side trying to gain his attention.

…The gown was simple enough, with just a touch of lace, but against the backdrop of her beautifully tanned skin and dark hair, it had proven pure magic for him. The lingerie had been quickly banished that night, in favor of other joys. It was nowhere to be found the following morning and hadn't been seen since. There was not a single stitch of evidence the gown even existed that night, because he had looked. He had finally decided it was a fleeting dream or aberration born of his love-addled mind….

"Hey Paulieee," she tries a singsong voice to no avail.

…yet, here it was, soft and cool to his touch. Lifting it to his face, its perfumed fragrance takes him back to that special night. She smelled of flowers and sunshine, and something else, sweet and reminiscent of love.

"PAUL!" Her voice now more insistent, finally gains his attention. His eyes dart to hers, then dance away, embarrassed to be caught reveling in his daydream.

"Ya still wit me here? I can't exactly do this by myself!" Her normally absent Brooklyn accent easily slips back into place, as she chuckles at the coyness of his boyish alarm.

He shakes his head to clear the cobwebs, before presenting the evidence of his dreams. "I ah…I was just thinking about the, ah…the…the last time you wore…wore this," he flashes her an impish grin to mask the fluster of his stuttering speech, "…I ah…I was beginning to think it, ah…didn't actually…exist."

"Well, are ya content to survive on those memories alone, or do ya wanna make some new ones?!" Her attitude is definitely all Brooklyn this time, along with her condescending New York smirk.

He pegs her with a lecherous glare, throwing in a confident wink for good measure, as he tosses the fantasy garment over his right shoulder. "What do you think, sweet thing?!" He smugly asserts, tossing her cocky attitude right back.

Diving in he catches her lips, kissing her until she begs for air. Settling his weight a little more firmly atop her, he softly whispers in her ear, "Forever isn't long enough to make all our memories, baby…but I'm more than willing to try with you by my side." His lips quiver a bit under the deeply felt emotion of his words. He then searches out his favorite place on the side of her neck, the one that tastes like honey.

She comes undone, as always, and shatters in his arms, Brooklyn attitude now gone, replaced by her deep abiding adoration and love….

'_***'**_

_I'm here again_

_A thousand miles away from you_

_A broken mess, just scattered pieces of who I am_

_I tried so hard_

_Thought I could do this on my own_

_I've lost so much along the way_

_Then I see your face_

_I know I'm finally yours_

_I find everything I thought I lost before_

_You call my name_

_I come to you in pieces_

_So you can make me whole_

_I've come undone_

_But you make sense of who I am_

_Like puzzle pieces in your hand,_

_Then I see your face_

_I know I'm finally yours_

_I find everything I thought I lost before_

_You call my name_

_I come to you in pieces_

_So you can make me whole!_

_I tried so hard! So hard!_

_I tried so hard!_

_Then I see your face_

_I know I'm finally yours_

_I find everything I thought I lost before_

_You call my name_

_I come to you in pieces_

_So you can make me whole_

_So you can make me whole_

'***'

_To be continued…_

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_**AN:**__ I plan to update this story weekly on Wednesdays, think of it as a __GRACELAND__ episode replacement, while the actual show is on hiatus! There may be occasions where I miss a week, if my schedule gets too crazy. I hope you'll forgive me, but my "little charges" in the NICU must come first! Thank you for taking the time to read the start of my tale; I hope you'll come back for more!_


	2. Chapter 1: Love Like Fools

_**AN:**__ Sorry I missed the "episode time slot" I promised for this story. I pulled 50+ hours on-call last weekend, and wasn't able to get the chapter to my beta until Wednesday morning. This part is quite a bit longer than my last, so hopefully that buys me some forgiveness points for my tardiness. This chapter takes place right at the end of "Head of the Pig," after Paul has heard the tape over the phone._

_These next 2 chapters are what I originally intended for my "one-shot" story, before I expanded into a full-length tale. I've embellished this chapter substantially, as I thought it might be fun to explore the beginning of the DeMarco-Briggs relationship. I love that Charlie &amp; Briggs were together in season 2, but I would've liked to see how that relationship developed after the Jangles/Odin mess. I'm of the opinion Charlie has always had a tender spot for Briggs, but was forced to settle for friendship for a very long time._

_**Disclaimer: **__The song ending this chapter is "Fools" from the album __Fools__ by Lauren Aquilina._

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**Chapter 1: Love Like Fools**

"_Love is friendship caught on fire." – Bruce Lee_

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_Midnight_

_Beach Front_

_Southern California_

He had driven around in a daze for what seemed like hours, before he found himself drawn to this place. Maneuvering the Bronco to a stop in a nearby parking space, he shut the engine down and sat numbly in the seat, absentmindedly twirling his key ring around his finger. Although the night air was pleasant, the cold gusts blowing in off the water had him shivering in his light t-shirt and jacket. In his panic to escape the house, he hadn't put much thought into appropriate clothing. He was more concerned with dodging Charlie's inquisitive gaze. That woman had a way of reading his reactions and moods.

In the beginning, he'd been adept at misleading and misdirecting her, but as their relationship had grown and deepened, he was finding it harder and harder to lie. He honestly didn't like deceiving her anymore. He loved and respected her too much for their relationship to be built on dishonesty, most especially now, with a baby on the way. But how could he tell her the truth, after all this time? He was certain she would leave him for good, and he'd never see his child.

He shook his head in disbelief at his self-imposed quandary. He thought he was free and clear of last year's shit storm, but now all his damn lies were coming home to roost, and he had no one to blame but himself.

"Why now?!" He yelled into the roaring wind, slamming his fist against the dashboard. He'd already asked that same question at least a hundred times in the hours that had ensued, since he'd heard that incriminating tape on the phone. The words were running through his head in a constant refrain, taunting him, like an insipid child's song playing on a continuous loop.

'You lit the match…You lit the match…You lit the match!'

"Stop!" He screamed at the top of his voice, but the cry was immediately gobbled up by wind, as the laughter of the universe mocked him.

He wanted to get off the terrifying merry-go-round that was his life. Was a little happiness too much to ask, he silently implored? He and Charlie were finally in a good place. They loved each other and were about to have a child. Why couldn't fate give him a break?

'Guilty!' The billowing wind cackled with derision.

"But I just want to be there for my child," he tried bargaining with the heavens, then dropped his chin and closed his eyes, pleading, "...I don't want him to grow up fatherless like me."

Another wind gust slapped him, stinging his face and rousing him from his tortured thoughts. He shook his head and cynically laughed. "So, now you're talking to yourself, Paulie? Great," he threw up his hands, "…you're clearly delusional."

Maybe Charlie was right, he was exhausted beyond measure and desperately needed sleep-but the damn nightmares wouldn't stop haunting him. Didn't they teach them something about sleep deprivation during training? He tried to remember the signs and symptoms.

'Time enough to sleep in the grave,' his demons taunted back.

He grabbed a lighter from the glove box and exited the car. He needed to get away from his thoughts, even if only for a few moments. Walking determinedly across the empty lot, he noticed the fronds of the palm trees swaying violently in the wind. He should probably head home, before the storm hits, his saner self suggested, but the deeper demons drove him on. He carefully traversed the staircase down to the beach. Standing on the bottom rung, peering at the site of his crime, he could see Juan's lifeless eyes staring at him from his makeshift desert grave.

He turned on his heels, heading out across the beach, in search of driftwood for a fire. Locating an armload of kindling, he returned to the familiar beachfront. Dropping down to the sand, he arranged the logs in a traditional teepee then withdrew the lighter from his pocket. As the logs caught fire, the flames jumped to and fro, whipped into frenzy by the ocean winds, much the same as his erratic thoughts. He followed the glowing embers from the bonfire as they danced in the breeze, rising and circling like fireflies on a warm summer night. The flickering cinders ignited a long-forgotten memory from his youth. He wanted to give chase and collect their magic in an old glass jar, just as he had done as a young boy on his grandparents' farm. His grandmother had told him stories about fairy sprites that hid among the lightening bugs on star-filled summer evenings. The fairies, she had said, shone brightest amongst all the fireflies, so he was to chase those lights, which twinkled the most. If he caught an actual fairy, she'd enchantingly exclaimed, he could whisper his innermost, heartfelt secret, and the sparkling pixie would make the dream come true. As a small, impressionable boy, all he had wished for that entire summer was a daddy like his best friend's dad, but alas, that dream never came true. Somehow, for all the fireflies he caught, cajoled and released that summer, not a one of them possessed the special powers of the secret fairy, and he'd quit believing in magic that summer, at the tender age of six.

Shaking his head to dispense with the memory, he mumbled under his breath, "Just as I failed to change fate back then, I have little hope of prevailing on the mercies of the heavens now."

He glanced up at the empty lot, which had once held the former Estates. He had visited this place a million times over the years, his heart drawn to the comfort of memories past. But as he continued stoking the bonfire, he found little solace in the thoughts of his deceased friends and lover. He'd made his peace and said goodbye to Lisa months ago. His future and his heart now belonged wholly to Charlie. He wasn't sure when exactly he had made the emotional transition from Lisa to Charlie; it had happened unconsciously and with little fanfare. Charlie had covertly tunneled under his stalwart defenses and simply set up residence in his heart. He had told Mike, the night of Jangles' death, that no one else would ever come close to his love for Lisa, but in a matter of months, Charlie had done exactly that. While the timing of his emotional connections remained vague, he knew the exact moment he had bid Lisa farewell. It was the night he tossed their medallions into the ocean, and Charlie, with her impeccable intuition and timing, had sensed the change as well.

As the twirling embers continued to mesmerize him, he mentally tried to sift back through the events of the previous summer. It had all started that night around the bonfire after Jangles' death…

'_***'**_

All of them had gathered on the beach that night around a roaring bonfire to celebrate being together again. He'd given a rousing speech about the poison that had robbed him of his sleep, his joy, his friends and lovers, and how he had forgotten about home. He had meant each and every word of those sentiments. When he'd glanced to his left, he'd seen Charlie wiping away a tear. She'd looked so sad, small and lost in that moment, he couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt, after all he had put her through in the previous weeks. His attempts to exact revenge had almost gotten the both of them killed. He'd also nearly destroyed a trusted friendship, one that he held dear. He couldn't help but think about all the sins for which he needed to make atonement, to Charlie most of all.

As the drinks were emptied and the fire died down, they had slowly found their way back to Graceland, one by one. It was 30 minutes later, as he was locking up, when he realized Charlie hadn't come back with the rest of them. He slipped out the door and slowly wandered back to the rock outcropping on the beach, which served as a second home for the occupants of Graceland. He found her in the exact same spot he had left her. The fire had long since burned out and the night air was chilly. She was sitting there shivering against the wind, arms tightly crossed against her chest. She looked hollow and alone, staring lifelessly out on the horizon. She seemed so…defeated, that was the word he was searching for. She was defeated.

"Mind if I sit down?" he called out, as he dropped down beside her. She startled at his intrusion into her private world. Shaking her head to the negative, she never uttered a word, her unseeing eyes transfixed on the darkness around her.

As he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, she tensed at his touch. Sensing she was annoyed, he attempted to withdraw from their intimate closeness, but she quickly clutched at his hand, trapping his arm around her body, and slowly sank into his chest. It was mere seconds before he felt her violent shudders erupt against him. Burying her face in his neck, she wept silently, tears cascading down his skin and soaking his shirt. He pulled her in tight, wrapping both arms protectively around her lithe form, and just held on.

After several minutes, she leaned back and quickly wiped her face. Diverting her eyes from his worried gaze, she inhaled a few shaky breaths, finally whispering, "Sorry."

"What's up, Chuck?" He cocked his head to the side, trying to read the emotion in her eyes.

"Nothing," she whispered with a halfhearted shrug, then clearing her throat, voiced more loudly, "…just stress from the events of the day I guess."

He frowned at her canned answer, "Charlie…."

"Not tonight, okay?" her trembling voice begged, her eyes more vulnerable than he'd ever seen.

"Okay," he whispered in a soothing voice, pulling her back to his side. He hooked a finger under her chin, drawing her face up to his. She initially fought him, but then gave in, diverting her eyes to the ground.

Leaning down he kissed her forehead, softly and gently. She smiled, though tentative and slight, for the first time that evening. Snuggling in closer, she settled her head into the crook of his neck and relaxed in his arms. They remained in that position for the next half hour or so, speechless, bathed in the moonlight and serenaded by the continuous rolling cadence of the waves. They silently counted the stars above and thanked each and every one of them for the blessing of being alive.

After a while, he felt her go limp against his chest. Her breathing evened out, and she became relaxed as a ragdoll. She seemed so serene and peaceful that he hated to wake her. He hadn't seen her that tranquil in weeks, not since before the whole Odin and Jangles disaster. He had surely put her through hell. If she ever learned the truth, he feared she'd never forgive him. Best to play along with the charade, his mind entreated him, while his heart claimed otherwise. He had little choice at this point, not if he wished to remain a free man.

He reached up with a finger and lightly brushed a strand of hair from her face. Her eyelids fluttered at his touch, but she remained quiet in sleep. When she had asked why he liked her, those long months ago, he had told her it was her beauty, both inside and out. But as he studied her face with all its outward beauty highlighted by the shining moon, he realized it was the beauty of her heart he loved the most. Charlie truly cared about people-all people, no matter how broken or small. The way she grieved for Whistler, a common druggie with little to offer or show, was a testament to her kind heart. She saw all the addicts and dependents on the streets for more than their habit. She never looked through them, as so many of her fellow agents did; she didn't see them for whom they were, but rather for whom they could be. When she had wanted to turn in her badge, he had been right to deny her. The Bureau needed her; the house needed her, and on a much deeper level, so did he.

Realizing more than an hour had transpired, he gently tried to wake her. Rubbing his whiskered cheek against hers, he softly called her name. She slowly began to rouse, then looked around, embarrassed to have fallen asleep. He brushed aside her apologies, and helped her to her feet. She remained a bit unsteady, so, wrapping an arm around her waist; he helped her to the house and up the stairs to her room. Bidding her goodnight with a simple kiss to her forehead, he left her at her bedroom door and retreated to his own space.

It was later that night when he heard her whimpers and screams. Running to her door, he knocked and entered. He found her thrashing around the bed, clearly terrified and repeatedly screaming the single word, "No." He sat down on the side of the bed and softly rubbed her back, until she settled back to peaceful slumber. Pivoting to lean against the headboard, he only meant to stay a few minutes to ensure her continued rest. As the early morning sunlight broke through the gaps in her curtains, he awakened with a jolt to find her studying him with perplexed eyes.

"Hi," he mumbled with a shy smile.

"Morning," was her wary response. Her eyes darted away, unsure of her present circumstance, but slowly drifted back to his face. "What are you doing here, Paul?"

"You had a, ah," he cleared his throat, "…a nightmare. I could hear you crying from my room." He rubbed a hand briskly over his face, unsure how to proceed. Charlie was one of the bravest people he knew. She rarely showed vulnerability or fear. That was what concerned him most about her behavior the previous evening.

"Sorry," her tiny voice held that edge of vulnerability again, as she rolled to a sit on the opposite side of the bed and reached for her robe.

"Chuck," he waited for her to glance his direction, "…it's more than okay. That whole Jangles mess…it was a tough gig…."

She cut him off mid-sentence, "Still, I'm sorry I bothered you."

He reached out and captured her arm, before she could flee. "That's what friends do, Chuck. We help each other." Lightly squeezing her arm to gain her attention, he continued on, "I'll be there for you, if you'll be there for me."

"Always!" She graced him with her first real Charlie-smile in weeks. He realized then how much he had missed it, and how her smile literally hung the moon.

He scampered to his feet and headed out her door. Ducking his head back in, he asked, "How about some breakfast? I'm feeling like hotcakes this morning. You?"

"Sure," she lightheartedly giggled back, "…I'll be right down.

'_***'**_

The events of that evening played out again several times per week over the next month and a half. On evenings when both of them were free, they'd walk along beach, hugging the tideline, as the sun slowly dipped below the horizon. They discussed anything and everything, and once in while, work. Other nights, they'd build a bonfire and talk for hours by its shadowy glow. As summer progressed to fall, they found themselves begrudgingly giving in, when their housemates tagged along to their fires. Thus their private walks became more frequent, in lieu of collegial bonfires attended by the house. His arm often found her shoulder, or hers, his waist, swaying hands became intertwined fingers, all in the name of 'friendship.'

At least once or twice per week, one would find their way to the other's bedroom, summoned by the cries and fears of nightmares. They'd each perfected a way to comfort and calm the terrors of the other, enhanced by their shared experience of a harrowing monster.

As September drew to a close and October fast approached, he realized he thought less and less of Lisa, as his time with Charlie grew. Then one day toward the end of October, as he was rummaging through his dresser drawer, he came across the small box containing the red and black matching medallions that he'd bought for Lisa and himself.

They'd worn them practically everyday, while they were together, and after her death, he hadn't been able to bring himself to take his off. That drunken night at the beachfront, when he'd shot Juan by mistake, he had intended to burn Lisa's necklace, but the Jangles imposter distracted him from his deed. He had shoved the necklace into his pocket that night, as he wrestled for the gun, then had promptly forgotten about the trinket in the aftermath of the shooting. Days later, when he'd found the necklace again, he had placed both treasured medallions in a small memory box and stored them deep in the back of his dresser.

Staring at the intertwined mementos, he lifted them from the box and brushed his thumb over the raised detail of the carvings. As he felt the smoothness of the coral, he realized that for the first time, he didn't sense that same connection to his past. He still loved Lisa, as he always would, but he didn't need her, not in the way he needed Charlie now. It was in that moment of enlightenment that he knew it was time to let Lisa go.

That evening, he snuck out of the house alone and wandered along the pier. Stopping a hundred yards from the shore, he leaned over the railing and watched the waves as they rolled and receded in their beautifully choreographed ballet. He reminisced about love long lost and the pain of departure, but as he searched the surf for a fleeting glimpse of Lisa, he couldn't remember the details of her lovely face. Her image was now unfocused and incomplete. Startled for a moment by the loss of the memory, he finally realized it was yet another sign of healing and letting go. He retrieved the necklaces from his pocket and lifted them to his face. Giving the black medallion a lingering kiss, he stared out across the horizon and tossed the keepsakes into the dancing ocean waves. He remained frozen in place, as memories ticked by with the minutes, bidding Lisa a final farewell.

As he slowly retraced his steps along the pier, he caught sight of a lone figure in the distance, hair dancing magically in the wind. He noted her smile first, as he got closer. 'Leave it to Charlie to sense something was up,' was his initial fleeting thought. He was greeted by an enthusiastic wave as she approached to meet him halfway down the pier.

"Hey, you left without me," she crooned with an adorable pout, then sobered when she saw his face. "Everything okay?"

Her question was just the kick in the pants he needed, he flashed her his most sincere smile, "It is now! How about that walk?"

"You sure?"

He leaned in and kissed her nose, then interlinked their arms to tug her forward, "More than I've ever been about anything, sweet thing!"

"Sweet thing?" She stood stock-still and pegged him with a questioning glare.

He just smiled and tugged her hand in reply, propelling her along beside him, then draped an arm over her shoulders. When she snuggled in closer, he leaned down and kissed the crown of her head. Her hair smelled like tropical flowers and coconut, and he decided then and there that he could easily enjoy that fragrance for the rest of his life.

After they walked a half-mile or so, he ventured ahead with his preplanned invitation. "How would you feel about a weekend in the mountains, hiking and enjoying the colorful foliage?"

"What?" She stopped abruptly again and turned to face him.

"I have a friend," he barreled on, barely missing a beat, "…he has a remote fishing cabin at Big Bear Lake in the San Bernardino Mountains. He said I could use it the first weekend of November. The leaves are supposed to be spectacular that time of year."

Cocking her head, she considered his invitation, "And you want me to come along?"

"Why not?" He smiled disarmingly. "A couple of friends can get away, can't they?"

Her heart broke a little at his use of the term 'friend,' but she acquiesced, "Okay, I guess that'll work. First weekend of November?"

"Yeah," he started walking again, "…we'll leave Friday morning and come back Sunday night."

She scurried to catch up to him. "I think I can get the time off."

'***'**

They arrived at the cabin just before lunchtime and spent the afternoon hiking in the mountains. The autumn air was wonderfully crisp, the sky cloud-free and trees towered overhead in a blaze of glorious fall colors. They caught dinner at a little café in town, before heading back to the cabin for the evening.

As they entered the cabin, she immediately shivered at the cool temperature of the room. He gathered logs from the nearby woodpile and got to work building a roaring fire, as she rounded up cozy antique quilts for warmth. Settling in for the night with hot tea and with jazz playing in the background, they talked about the adventures of their day.

It didn't take long for Charlie to start yawning and eventually drop off to sleep, her head nestled on his shoulder. Watching her as she slept, he decided the day had been one of his best in a very long time. He was just about to doze off himself, when she violently shivered against his side. He felt her cold nose a moment later, as she turned her face into his neck, seeking out his warmth. When her teeth began to chatter, he lifted her into his arms, quilts and all, and carried her off to the bedroom. Tucking her into the bed under a mountain of down blankets, he lay down beside her, arms tightly encircling her body for additional warmth. She awoke at that moment, dazed and sleepy, a hint of uncertainty circling in the depths of her eyes.

"Whaaat?" she glanced around the dim room, which was visible only by the backdrop of moonlight peeking through the shuttered windows. As she searched her strange surroundings for a frame of reference, her words came out in rapid jumble, "Where…what…why are you…?"

Supporting his raised head on his arm, he reached out to brush a wisp of hair off her forehead. "You were shivering from the cold."

His finger stroked downward across the soft skin of her cheek, as his thumb skimmed her lower lip. "I guess this cabin doesn't have the best heating system. I was just trying to warm you up."

Peering intently into the bottomless depths of her eyes, he leaned into her, his lips gently caressing hers. She was wary and tentative at first. He pulled back to gauge her reaction, his reassuring smile soft and inviting. She reached up, her fingers skimming through the hair at the nape of his neck, and pulled him back downward. He hovered over her, his lips a breath away from hers. Slowly closing the distance, he allowed her to deepen and direct their kiss.

His hand burrowed through the pile of blankets and covers and clothes, finally finding the softness of her skin. His fingers ghosted up her side, raising goosebumps in their wake, and causing her to shiver for a reason entirely different than the weather. Not to be outdone, her hand tunneled under the back of his shirt, fingertips skipping over each vertebra in their journey upward.

"Charlie?" he whispered, eyes scanning her face, seeking permission.

She tugged on his shirt, pulling it over his head and casting it aside. The corner of her mouth tweaked up in the slightest of smiles, as she pulled him back down to her lips. Needing little encouragement, they cast their clothes, one by one, to the far corners of the room. She rushed ahead, as he struggled to keep up. Images of 'Katie and Eric' flashed through his mind, before he lost all ability to think. They collapsed in a heap on the rumpled bed, as he blindly sought out the blankets to fend off the cold, both of them exhausted, in dreamland before they knew what hit them.

But as he drifted off to sleep, a fleeting thought passed through his barely functioning mind: That was not exactly how he had intended the evening to end. Explanations would be due in the morning.

'_***'**_

He found her in the kitchen early the next morning, fiddling with the ancient coffeemaker. She was dressed in heavy sweats, from what little he could see of her clothing under the swaddling of layered quilts. Her feet were shod in thick socks and slippers. He quietly crept up behind her, placing his hands gently on her shoulders. As he leaned in to kiss the side of her neck, his warm breath blew across her skin as he spoke, "I see you're still cold this morning."

She jumped away, startled like a rabbit suddenly pounced upon by a fox, "Shit! Ya scared the hell out of me, Briggs! A little warning next time, huh?!" Her voice held more than a little edge of irritation.

"Sorry," he contritely replied, as he stepped in closer, intending to kiss her good morning. She sidestepped his advance, and continued on her path. Then, busying herself with the simple task of making coffee, she feigned deep concentration.

"You, ah…slept well?" he cautiously ventured, trying to decipher her mood.

"S'kay," she mumbled without looking up. The thick tendrils of her hair cascaded across her face like heavy drapery, hiding her expression from his view.

Grabbing two mugs from the cupboard, he tried again, "Are you mad at me for something?"

"No!" Her curt reply suggested otherwise.

He could sense she was uncomfortable, so he set the mugs on the counter beside her and retreated to the living area of the great room. Folding the pile of quilts mounded on the sofa, he neatly placed them over the back of the couch, then retrieved their coats from a nearby chair, hanging them on the coat rack by the door. Collecting the dirty mugs from the coffee table, where they'd been abandoned the night before, he returned to the kitchen, intending to wash them.

"You can stop stalking around here like a caged tiger!" she exclaimed, forcefully grabbing the mugs from his grasp; clearly she was upset.

He took a step back, perplexed, and vigorously raked his fingers through his hair. "Are you, ah…" he exhaled audibly to defuse the situation; it felt like he was picking through a minefield, "…are you upset about…last night?"

"Not upset, so much as…" Trailing off, she pivoted back to the coffeemaker, pleased to see it had finally finished its cycle. She filled both mugs to the top with some of the much-needed strong brew, then, lifting a mug to her face, slowly inhaled the fragrance of the deep roast in an attempt to collect her thoughts.

"So much assss…" his words attempted to urge her on, his outstretched hand and imploring eyes seeking clarification.

"Embarrassed," she whispered, eyes downcast, as she awkwardly shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"Embarrassed?!" His immediate fiery retort caught her off-guard. "Why would you be embarrassed?!" He began pacing the floor, now clearly agitated.

She knew she needed to assuage the tension in the room, before their friendship was completely derailed. "Last year…" she meekly offered, flustered and searching for the right words.

"What about it?!" He was still peeved, but at least he'd stopped pacing.

"In the hotel, waiting for Quinn…" Her eyes briefly met his, before darting away, her voice growing softer and more unsure. "Didn't we decide that…'friends'…don't do 'those things'?"

He felt the sting of her words, just as harshly as if she'd slapped him across the face. Grabbing his coffee mug from the counter, he turned tail and stalked toward the front door. As he jerked his jacket off the hook, he paused momentarily at the door.

"I mistakenly thought we were more than friends at this point…" His hand gripped the knob so tightly, his knuckles turned white, "…and I for one, think being best friends is a…great foundation…for a relationship, but…clearly I was wrong." The pitch of his voice changed over the course of his statement, so that his last words were quiet, broken and dangerous all at the same time.

With that final utterance, he exited the cabin, door slamming behind him. She was left alone in the immense great room, mouth agape and emotions firing in all directions. Hadn't he said they were 'friends' just a week earlier? And the last time they'd nearly hooked up in the hotel, he was the one that laughed it off as 'Katie and Eric'! She was fuming by the time her thoughts coalesced into a single coherent conclusion. She had an urge to track him down and let him have it between the eyes! She was halfway to the door to carry out her threat, when one of his words finally broke through her hazy reality and stopped her in her tracks.

'Relationship!' Did he just say they were in a 'relationship'?

She let the word somersault around her brain and tingle on her tongue, before whispering it aloud: "Relationship." She was afraid to move or breathe, lest she break the spell. He thought they were in a relationship?

She had told Jangles that Briggs took a piece of her heart, when he fled, which was true. What she felt for him had been simmering for so long, she couldn't even remember when it had started. In the beginning, he was something of a myth, larger than life, just as she had told him in the hotel room that night. There had been an instant attraction, as evidenced by their steamy display on that first undercover op. He'd been happy to blow it off as crazy lust, opting instead for friendship. She'd always wanted more, but had happily settled into her best friend status, as the only way to keep him close in her life. It had worked well over the ensuing years, until their repeat command performance of 'Eric and Katie' and all the fallout of Quinn and Odin. Throw in the mess with Jangles, and well, their life had been in an upside down tailspin for months.

She took a deep breath to clear her head, exhaling slowing across the surface of her steaming mug of coffee. The vapors rising from the hot cup mesmerized her for a moment. She watched them swirl upwards in spirals of white each time she exhaled a breath. Her life had been out of control lately. She was ill at ease in her job. The Jangles and Odin fallout had stolen her confidence; she no longer trusted her intuition. She was slowly trying to claw her way back, but progress had come in fits and starts, between dubious failures. Briggs had been her rock each step of the way. But were they in a secure enough emotional place to alter the terms of their relationship? She didn't know if she was willing to risk it.

Taking a step back from the daunting question at hand, she reverted to the comfort of her tried and true FBI methods and began categorizing her options. Did she want Paul in her life? Yes, most definitely, she'd be lost without him. Did she care about him? If she was truly honest with herself, she'd loved him in one form or fashion for a very long time. Could she see herself without him? Never! She had tried that tactic last spring, as she pursued Odin, and it had been a complete disaster. Did she want something more from their relationship? Yes! What if the relationship failed? Ah, now, that was the truly scary part; she could lose him.

'But if you never try, you'll never know,' the tiny voice in the back of her mind chided her.

With mug in hand, she headed out the front door; quilt still draped around her shoulders. She stopped on the porch, leaning a hand against the rustic log railing. As she sipped her coffee, she took in the spectacular scenery off in the distance. A fine mist of fog hung over the valley below. The mountains, crowned in jewel tones of red, yellow and orange, towered high above. The sun sparkled brilliantly as its light began to creep over the distant tree line. She inhaled the crisp, clear mountain air and pondered why she'd ever opted for city living with all its traffic, smog and crime.

Drawing her attention back to the landscape surrounding the cabin, she searched the horizon, trying to locate his imposing figure. What she saw instead took her breath away. He was hunched over and drawn in upon himself, a small silhouette sitting on the end of the pier.

Yes, she thought, there was definitely a conversation long overdue. She inhaled and briefly held her breath, then exhaled slowly to steady her nerves. Agilely traversing the path to the lake, she stepped cautiously over the smooth terrain, as if she might need to seek cover from incoming enemy fire.

When she finally reached his location at the end of the pier, she gently ruffled her fingers through the locks on the crown of his head. His once-smoothed hair sprang into curls instantly at her touch, and she marveled at the softness of them. Her fingers meandered a wayward journey down his cheek, stumbling through the stubble of his beard. As she finally cupped his chin with her palm, he looked up, his wary eyes glistening and hollow.

"Mind if I sit down?" she softly implored, her own voice a bit shaky and unsure. He shrugged his acquiescence, but didn't utter a word.

She dropped down right next to him, shoulder abutting shoulder. She searched the expression on his face for a hint to the receptiveness of his mood. She saw only sadness and pain. He looked alone and desolate. She tried to remember if she'd ever seen him that way before. No, she decided; he was always the one in charge, the life of the party. When he entered a room, his aura absorbed all the energy. He commanded immediate attention and allegiance with nary a word. His charisma was larger than life. It both pained and exhilarated her to know she held that much sway over his life, and she shook her head at the juxtaposition. She never imagined he held her in such high regard.

Nudging his shoulder with hers, she smiled disarmingly. "Mind if we talk?"

"Not sure there's much left to say," he muttered; his eyes guarded and his face downcast.

You…ah…ah…um," she stumbled over her words, before righting herself again, "…you kinda…caught me off-guard back there."

"Sorry," his voice was so soft; she barely heard his response over the gentle mountain breeze.

"I'm a little confused," she took a long sip of her coffee. "A week ago, you said we were friends."

"We are!" he instantaneously answered her with conviction. Her immediate relief was exhaled through pursed lips; thankfully, he intended to keep their friendship intact, at the very least.

She looked out across the horizon, watching the sun's reflection sparkle like a million diamonds off the surface of the lake, as she carefully pondered the framing of her next question. "I didn't think you wanted more?"

"Why's that?" was his simple, unadulterated answer. He truly looked puzzled, like a little boy discovering talking dogs weren't real, or his father wasn't Superman.

"Uh, the last time," she countered, trying to consciously control the incredulous tone of her voice.

"What last time?"

Okay, now he was clearly being obtuse…or perhaps more accurate, deliberately male. Definitely the latter, she finally decided with a shake of her head.

"Remember back in the hotel…waiting for Quinn…things got a little heated." She waved her hand in time with her statements, trying desperately to urge the conversation ahead without overtly stating the obvious-he'd shot her down!

"Eric and Katie?"

"Exactly!" They were finally on the same page.

"What does that have to do with the here and now?"

Or maybe not! She sighed dramatically, then trudged ahead. "You didn't want to hook up for fear of ruining our friendship, right?" He nodded in the affirmative. "So why now?"

"Because we're more than friends and have been for awhile." His response was so understated and nonchalant, she wondered if she'd heard him right. "Or, at least, I thought we were…" his eyes looked away again.

Reaching for his hand, she jumped in with both feet, "We are!"

He finally looked at her, really looked at her, for the first time in the last half hour. "I never meant to imply otherwise, Paul. It's just that," it was her turn to look away from his intense gaze, "…you never clued me in that you wanted…more."

"Ah, yeah, I guess that would've helped," he released a short, throaty, self-depreciating chuckle. "It's just I thought you knew…"

"No," she replied, "…you made it pretty clear in that hotel room that you didn't want to risk our friendship."

They both responded simultaneously, in their rush to say all the words.

"But the last few months..." he started.

"I've always wanted more…" her voice trailed off at that admission.

"I know…."

"You do?" she questioned, mouth agape.

He squeezed her hand, as an indication to let him finish, "I knew you wanted more that night in the hotel, but I wasn't ready. I stopped us, because I couldn't take advantage of your feelings or risk our friendship…not until I was ready for more."

"And you're ready now…to risk it?" she quizzed pensively.

Draping an arm around her shoulders, he pulled her in close, boring his eyes into hers. "Yes," he whispered in earnest, before kissing her softly.

"Good!" She murmured against his lips.

They returned to the cabin for breakfast, with Briggs offering to make his specialty, hotcakes. As they sought out and measured the ingredients, bumps, nudges and caresses, turned into kisses and opting for dessert first, followed by a nap and a shower. The hotcakes became brunch, and they spent the afternoon hiking through mountainous trails covered with fiery leaves, brightly covered berries and easily spooked wildlife. They stopped by a creek at a bend in the trail and enjoyed a hearty snack. Arriving back at the cabin at dusk, the evening progressed much the same as the night before, except both were of the same mind by its end.

The following morning, Briggs exited the bedroom donned in jeans, but little else, in search of his missing shirt. He found Charlie in the kitchen, busy slicing up veggies for their breakfast omelets, robed in the pilfered shirt. He sauntered up behind her, hoping for a more welcoming response this time. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he nibbled on the right side of her neck, just below her ear. It tasted sweet, like honey, he had decided the night before, christening it one of his favorite spots on her body.

Tilting her head to the side, she allowed him to indulge for a moment, before turning in his arms. "Good morning," she practically hummed, as her hands slid their way up the bare skin of his chest to his shoulders. He leaned in for a quick peck on the lips, before returning to linger a little longer.

"Sleep well?" he tried out his now infamous line from yesterday.

"Not bad," her hands caressed his chest, up and down, while her eyes followed suit, "…for the little I got."

"Little? Why so little?" His eyes twinkled with mirth, like a toddler on Christmas morn.

"Because someone," her fingertips made another journey up and down, before locking behind his neck, "…didn't let me sleep." She flashed him a mischievous wink and smiled. He kissed her again then, just because he could.

Fingering the buttons of his flannel shirt, he quirked an accusing eyebrow, "I think you have something that belongs to me."

Taking a step back, she ogled him from head to toe, starting at his bare chest, then his unfastened jeans, and finally his naked toes. "You look fine to me," she nonchalantly shrugged, biting her lip to hide a smug grin. Dipping two fingers just inside the waistband of his boxer briefs, she ran it around the elastic, before deciding this relationship thing was going to be more than a little fun.

"Enjoying yourself?" He removed her hand and tugged her back into his embrace.

"Why, yes, I am," she cooed, hugging him back.

His fingers veered south, stroking up and down the back of her bare leg, before heading higher. Her breathing hitched, before quickening, as he watched her eyes dilate with pleasure. He released a throaty chuckle, as his shenanigans trumped hers, then kissed her soundly.

After a moment to gain her bearings, she shook her head and questioned, "Are we skipping breakfast again today?" Her brows waggled suggestively.

"Afraid not, I'm sorry to say," a quick hug and a kiss of her forehead sealed the deal. "If we want to get another hike in before leaving late this afternoon, we need to scoot!"

"Spoiler sport," she countered in a grumbling murmur under her breath, before adding more loudly, "Do you want mushrooms on your omelet?"

"Sure." he poured a cup of coffee and leaned back against the counter, legs casually crossed at the ankles, to watch her culinary skills.

"When did you learn to cook, babe?"

"As a kid, I always cooked with my ma and nonna…It was a family thing," she turned her head to catch his eye, "…BABE!"

He chuckled, "Don't like babe, huh?"

"No, no, it's fine," a bit of her Brooklyn accent kicking in. She returned her attention to the pan on stove. "I'm just wondering how we handle this at the, ah…house?"

"What do you mean?" he stepped closer, rubbing a hand up her back.

She shrugged. "Are we going to tell them about…us?" Her expression reflected the uncertainty of her words.

"You don't want anyone to know?" His brow wrinkled with concern as he frowned.

"No, it's not that," she slid the first omelet onto his plate, before adding more beaten eggs to the pan. "I don't like the idea of trying to make a relationship work in front of prying, critiquing eyes…especially Paige and Johnny!"

"Ah, keep it secret for now, until we're more comfortable," he carried his plate and mug to the table, before returning for napkins and silverware.

"Exactly!"

He controlled the urge to roll his eyes, as he mentally thought about their behavior over the last few weeks. If their housemates hadn't caught on to the change in their relationship after all their evening walks and private time, then none of them deserved to be agents! He decided to let that tidbit of information slide for the time being.

"Sounds good! You 'bout done over there?" He replied instead, waiting patiently for her to join him.

"Yeah, could ya pour me another cup of coffee, babe?"

"Sure thing, BABE!" He threw the endearment back at her for effect. Maybe they should cool things a bit around the others, he thought as he considered her concern, then responded, "You know…I've been known to refer to you as babe or baby for a long time. Won't they get suspicious if I suddenly stop?"

"Oh, good point!" she jabbed an index finger his way, before regarding his comment for a moment. "Okay, you can call me babe, but no more than before!" This time he did roll his eyes; she and her Brooklyn attitude could sure be bossy at times.

"I saw that!" She exclaimed without turning around. He couldn't help but laugh at her antics.

Later that morning, they hiked another trail, before stopping for lunch on a bluff overlooking the valley below. Charlie had made traditional mullaletta sandwiches on crusty Italian bread and Pasta E Fagioli soup. The meal both filled and warmed them. Stretching his legs out on the expanse of the quilt, he leaned backward against the trunk of a large fir tree. Charlie found her place between his legs with little encouragement. Wrapping her in his arms, he pulled her back against his chest, so they could relax and enjoy the view. Before long, they were both yawning and fighting off sleep. She dropped off first, while he tried desperately to remain upright and vigilant.

Looking around for something to keep his attention, his eyes fell on Charlie's face. He remembered how sad and small she had looked sitting by the bonfire those long weeks ago. He marveled that he was starting to see glimpses of his old Chuck shining through. She still had moments of uncertainty, but they were the exception rather than the rule. And while guilt had been one of the contributing factors spurring him on in their relationship, it was by no means the primary driving force. His guilt would probably always remain, as there was no way to explain to her all that he had done in the past year, but he prayed she would never be conscious of the initial push of his guilt.

Her eyelids flickered as she began to dream. It occurred to him that neither of them had awakened with nightmares in the past couple of days. Maybe, just maybe, this relationship thing would be good for both of them, he surmised. He stroked a finger down her cheek, using the lightest touch of an angel's wing. She stirred slightly, but never awoke. He studied her lashes, cheeks and the bow of her lips. She was truly lovely. How had it taken him so long to see?

'You told her she was beautiful before,' that little voice in the back of his mind rang out. Yes, but he hadn't really seen, not to this degree.

'You had to let go of Lisa,' the voice retorted back. Ah, yes, therein lay the truth.

He inhaled deeply, as his eyes drifted shut. "I think I'm falling in love with you, Catherine DeMarco," the phrase escaped his lips with barely a sound. He failed to see the slight trace of a smile on her lips, as the words entered the realm of her dream world.

'_***'**_

A clap of thunder roused him from his musings. Glancing at his watch, he realized he'd been lost in memories for over an hour. The fire had been reduced to glowing embers, and it was fast becoming very cold. The next thunderous boom was accompanied by a streak of lightning, which highlighted the heavy storm clouds overhead. He quickly stood up and kicked sand over the embers to extinguish any remaining fire. As he jogged back toward the car, the heavens opened up with a torrential downpour. The cool raindrops, along with the persistent ocean winds, drove the temperature even lower.

Stepping into the car, he turned the key and gunned the engine. He grumbled for the umpteenth time about the Bronco's lack of a roof. He was going to be soaked to the bone by the time he got home. Pulling onto the road, he navigated through the slick streets toward Santa Monica at a speed somewhere north of prudent.

'_***'**_

_Those hardest to love need it most_

_I watched our bodies turn to ghosts_

_Such good friends, it has to end, it always does_

_That's the way life is_

_Do we take that risk?_

'_*'_

_And so it all boils down to this_

_We've got our aim, but we might miss_

_We are too fragile just to guess_

_And I've been in this place before_

_Fine as we are but we want more_

_That's human nature at its best_

'_*'_

_What if we ruin it all, and we love like fools?_

_And all we have we lose?_

_I don't want you to go but I want you so_

_So tell me what we choose_

'_*'_

_Friends, I watched us as we changed_

_The feelings in my headspace rearranged_

_I want you more than I've wanted anyone_

_Isn't that dangerous?_

'_*'_

_The anticipation before the kiss_

_Mirrored in my shaking lips_

_Oh god I feel so unprepared_

_The two of us so out of place_

_My feelings written on my face_

_Got what I want but now I'm scared_

'_*'_

_What if we ruin it all, and we love like fools?_

_And all we have we lose?_

_I don't want you to go but I want you so_

_So tell me what_

_Tell me what we choose_

_What we choose_

_What we choose_

'_*'_

_What if we ruin it all, and we love like fools?_

_And all we have we lose?_

_I don't want you to go but I want you so_

_So tell me what_

_Tell me what_

_Tell me what we choose_

'_*****'**_

_To be continued…_

'_************'**_

* * *

_**AN:**__ I wish this site had a "play" button, so the actual music played at the conclusion of each chapter. The words alone aren't quite the same! If you're interested in a Charlie-Briggs video of this song, go to youtube and search for "Charlie + Briggs / We Love Like Fools" by BeyondReasonScrubs667. It's a fantastic __Graceland__ video, as are all of her other Charlie-Briggs videos! Speaking of which, I need to thank BeyondReasonScrubs for the suggestion of this song. I think it fits this chapter perfectly, as these 'friends' become 'something more.'_


	3. Chapter 2: My Salvation

_**AN:**__ Before I deal with any specifics related to this chapter, I want to thank those of you who have taken the time to review my story. I really appreciate your kind words and encouragement! Apparently, this story isn't most folks "cup of tea," and for that I am truly sorry._

_I realize the story thus far has mostly been from Paul's POV, and that continues on here in chapter 2. That said, Charlie will be playing a much larger role in the upcoming chapters, along with Paul, and the other characters of Graceland. This is not a Briggs-centric story, but rather equal parts DeMarco-Briggs, with the other favorite (and hated) characters having major or minor roles._

_This chapter continues on where chapter 1 ended and follows the episode "Head of the Pig." I don't plan to delve into the episode "Home" all that much, mostly because it didn't make a lot of sense - more about that in the author's notes of chapter 3. I do, however, feel it is important to start bringing Charlie's actions into view, as relates to the tape. There are a few subtle hints of her involvement in this chapter, but I will expand more on her role in chapter 3._

_**Disclaimer: **__The song ending this chapter is "Salvation" from the album __English Rain__ by Gabrielle Aplin._

'_************'**_

* * *

**Chapter 2: My Salvation**

"_yours is the light by which my spirit's born:_

_yours is the darkness of my soul's return_

_\- you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars" – ee cummings_

'_*****'**_

* * *

Early Wee Hours

Graceland

Southern California

The key missed its mark several times, as he attempted to unlock the door. His hands were shaking from the cold. The rains had continued the entire ride home. He was drenched and freezing.

Lightning zipped across the sky, brightening the night, as thunder crashed in the background. Finally, the key turned in the lock and the doorknob gave way in his shivering hand. Pushing the door open, he stepped into the dark room, thankful to find the space empty and quiet.

He locked up and remained still for a moment, his head resting against the closed door. He had been afraid he'd find Charlie waiting up for him, wanting to discuss his quick exit and long absence. Taking a deep breath of relief, he turned to head upstairs for a much-needed hot shower. Her voice caught him as his foot hit the first step.

"Paul?"

He froze in place, irritated at being caught. It briefly flashed through his mind to continue on upstairs, pretending not to hear. Thinking better of it, he paused and answered. "It's just me, babbbe."

She raised her head from a pillow on the couch and peered into the darkness, trying to make out his form. "Thank goodness! Where have you been? I was worried sick!"

"Out for a drive," was his too quick reply. "Needed to ccclear to my headddd."

"Why?"

He sighed his frustration, and slowly made his way to her side. Crouching beside her, he tried to visualize the expression on her face in the dim, moonless night. Another lightning strike obliged him, as he noted she looked both worried and irritated at the same time. He reached out and traced his fingers over her wrinkled brow.

"You're freezing!" was her instantaneous reply.

"Stttarted raaaining," he stuttered, as he shivered again, "…no roofff on the Broncoooo, 'membbber?"

"You need to get out of those clothes." She quickly morphed into her mothering mode, sitting up to remove his jacket.

After slowly peeling the coat off his wet arms like a second skin, she tugged the soaked shirt over his head. Reaching for a throw from the back of the couch, she wrapped it around his body, briskly rubbing her hands up and down his arms. His initial irritation melted away at her concerned touch. She pulled him close, hugging him to her body. He melted into her, enjoying her closeness and warmth. His face instinctively sought out her neck. She smelled like home to him, a welcoming presence in his current storm. They stayed in that embrace for several minutes, letting the quiet wash over them.

Finally, he pulled away, mumbling apologetically, "I'm getttting you all wetttt."

"No worries." She cupped his cheek, her fingers stroking through his beard. She grabbed the dishtowel from her shoulder with her other hand and gently dabbed away the water droplets, as they trickled from his wet hair onto his face.

The outside storm with its driving winds and rain finally relented to the gentle staccato of raindrops against the expansive glass of the house. The moon peeked through the clearing cover, as the heavy gray clouds moved off in the distance. She studied his face in the filtered light. He was clearly exhausted. Deep lines furrowed his brow, and dark shadows encircled his eyes. She leaned forward. Her lips lightly brushed away the creases on his forehead and meandered down his cheek, before finding his cold lips. She kissed him gently and slowly, expressing her love and concern.

His numb lips remained unmoving for a moment before responding. He couldn't lose this, was the fleeting thought at the back his mind, as he deepened the kiss. She was his anchor, his world.

"You know I love you, riggghttt?" His voice broke with emotion on the last word, and he tried to cover it with a shivering stutter.

She could hear the desperation in his voice, as he whispered the words against her lips. She'd been worried he'd fled tonight, like the last time he'd been caught up in his web of lies and misdeeds. She briefly wondered if she was doing the right thing with the tape, but then resolved she needed to know the truth.

"Yeah," she drawled out and kissed him again. "You should probably get that shower now and warm up." She caressed his cheek in reassurance. He'd been through enough tonight; there was always time to talk tomorrow.

His hand covered hers, pressing her palm to his cheek. He needed that physical link to her, to his future, if he was to weather his current situation. He wouldn't survive without her, of that he was certain. If Lisa's death had taught him little else, it was the delicateness of the tethering thread that linked you to those you held dear. Did Charlie know the essential place she held in his life? Had he ever told her?

"More than anything." He sought her eyes with his own, trying to express the true depth of his feelings, and needing to hear the same from her.

She watched as his eyes glazed over and shone in the moonlight. Leaning in to kiss him again, she whispered fervently against his lips, "Me too, baby, me too."

He stood to regain his bearings and shake off his maudlin mood. The moonlight illuminated the cresting ocean beyond. The approaching and receding waves mesmerized him, reminding him of the fragileness of life, as events threatened to drown him and steal away all he held dear.

She watched the various expressions flicker over his face, one by one, wondering where his thoughts had gone. He caught her studying him out of the corner of his eye and tried to regroup, fearing she'd start questioning him again.

"Well, I better get that shower, before I catch the death of cold," was his feeble attempt at escape.

He turned heel and headed for the stairs. Pausing on the bottom step, he turned back her way. "Why are you down here?"

"Sauce," was her simple one word reply.

The aroma hit him in that moment. His upturned nose inhaled deeply, taking in the delicious scent of tomato, garlic, oregano and basil. He missed the simpler days, when the camaraderie of the house revolved around Charlie's regaling of her ancestors' tale, and the much anticipated, three-day wait for sauce night.

"Ah, yes, the sauce…It smells great, babe," was his rejoinder, as he slipped upstairs.

'_***'**_

He stepped into the hot shower, as steam swirled around him in a cloudy haze. The water cascaded over his body, scalding and reddening his frozen skin. Rather than step back, he embraced the pain, feeling invigorated and alive, happy to feel anything but fear and loneliness. He tried to plan his next move, but his mind was numb from the events of the night. How had he gone from such towering heights to the fires of hell? From the joy of being a father to the fear of losing it all, in mere seconds—all in the space of a single phone call. He felt like a grand prix racer barreling toward the wall at 200 miles per hour. He could clearly see the impending crash, yet couldn't brace for the impact.

Feeling was slowly returning to his hands and feet, as the pins and needles subsided. Reaching for the shower gel, he tried to scrub away the tension and exhaustion of the night, with little effect.

Leaning his hands against the adjacent shower wall, he let the bulk of his weight rest against his muscular arms, as the hot water beat down on his head and his thoughts began to wander. Was it really just a couple of days ago that Charlie returned home from Amber's place? He'd been so excited to get her home after her two-week absence; he'd snuck into the bathroom to find her, like a child in awe trying to get a glimpse of Santa on Christmas morn.

They'd had little contact in the two weeks she'd been gone, despite her assurances to the contrary. His phone calls had gone to voice mail more often than not, rarely to be returned. He had been worried sick and missed her terribly. For such a brief absence, it had felt more like an eternity. Paige had even noticed his wounded puppy dog eyes, when he'd mistaken her for Charlie trudging up the stairs.

He hadn't realized the enormous size of his bed, until he'd been left to sleep alone. Before Charlie, he'd found his private space roomy and liberating, away from the other occupants of the house, but now, without her, its emptiness suffocated him in silence and loneliness. He wondered if she had any inclination of how much she had changed him. His fun-loving bachelor days, of flirting with anything in a skirt and staying out all night, were well and truly done.

"Well, I guess I'm finally housebroken," was his self-loathing reply. It had certainly taken him long enough.

Shaking his head in disgust, he realized he couldn't even sleep without her, as there had been very little of that luxury in her absence. His nightmares tortured him every time he closed his eyes, and without Charlie to soothe them away, he'd been left to suffer the torment of his demons. That night when he'd stepped into the shower with her, after seeing the positive pregnancy test, had been his first good night's sleep in weeks.

That little irritating voice in the back of his head, the one that had been so vocal of late, chided him again. 'Of course, the fact she wore you out had no impact at all!' He snorted at that little tidbit of information; it was the first time that annoying know-it-all had been right all night!

He turned off the water, reached for a towel, and stepped out of the shower. Drying off, he raked his fingers through his wet hair and decided to let it air dry for the night. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he headed for his room. He dressed quickly in boxers and a t-shirt, then pulled back the blankets and crawled into his bed. He tossed and turned for several minutes, before throwing his legs over the side and standing up again. Without Charlie, it was pointless to even try to sleep. He was torn between wanting her there for comfort and escaping her questioning gaze. Either way, it was going to be another sleepless night.

He wandered out of his room in search of her, then doubled back and entered her room instead. Even if he couldn't have her, there was something calming about having her things around him. He dropped wearily onto her bed. Gazing around her room, he was taken by the décor that was so…well, Charlie. A streamlined mix of modern and eclectic, nothing too feminine or frilly, but cozy just the same, in a definite Charlie sort of way. Pulling back the quilt on her bed, he slipped his legs underneath and reclined against her headboard. He'd managed to fall asleep in that same position multiple times in the beginning of their relationship.

His legs stretched and moved of their own accord between the cool sheets, seeking out hers. He sighed in frustration as he twisted and turned, trying to find a comfortable spot. Sliding further down the bed, he laid his head on her pillow and was relieved to find it smelled like her. His eyes had almost drifted shut when his hand became entangled in a strap beneath the adjacent pillow.

Pulling out the garment, he held up her pink bra for closer inspection. He grinned impishly with the knowledge she also possessed a pair of matching panties. Another little secret that no one else knew about his Charlie: she actually liked pink! While she preferred to dress in casual clothing of black, blue or gray, and absolutely abhorred frills and lace, she frequently hid a tiny bit of her feminine side underneath her 'I can compete in a man's world' persona.

He'd first discovered her secret on their second op as Katie and Eric. That night, when she'd shot up trying to placate Quinn, he'd been forced to physically carry her out of the dealer's house and stash her at his emergency apartment. She'd been so disoriented and sick, he'd helped her into some of his spare clothing when hers had become drenched in sweat. That's when he'd discovered her secret. He'd never mentioned it to her for fear of her fury-at least not until after they'd become involved. He loved that juxtaposition about her, tough on the outside but soft and feminine underneath. That physical persona matched her deeper personality to a 'T.' She was tough as nails one minute, fists flying with criminal scum like Quinn, then comforting and tender the next, looking out for her CI, Whistler.

He rose from the bed and began to pace. It was clear that sleep was not coming easily that night. He tossed the bra over his shoulder and wandered to the other side of her room. Picking up a perfume bottle, he removed the cap and inhaled. It was his very favorite fragrance on her. He'd been buying it for her as Christmas and birthday gifts since long before they were involved. The perfume reminded him of sunshine and ocean breezes, with subtle undertones of floral, or at least, that was the way the sales lady at Saks had described the fragrance when he'd inquired about it. All he knew was it smelled like Charlie. He'd been in a hurry that day, making his way through Saks to gain entrance to the other stores in the mall. As he strolled past the cosmetic counter, his nose had been assaulted by the overwhelming potpourri of smells. He'd almost escaped, when a subtle fragrance caught his nose, immediately invoking a mental image of his best friend. He'd been drawn to buy it for her in that moment, for reasons he never fully understood until now, and it had become her favorite perfume from that time on.

Setting the bottle back on her dresser, he meandered toward her desk. It was in its usual state of organized disarray. He knew better than to touch a single paper, envelope or file. As messy as the desk appeared to the casual observer, Charlie knew where each and every item belonged. He'd tried fiddling with her system once in jest.

'Let's just say,' he mused, 'payback was a bitch'!

He opened the sliding door and stepped out onto her balcony. The rain had finally ceased, and the air held that distinct, freshly scrubbed aroma that only happens after a deep cleansing rain. The storm clouds had long since cleared out, leaving behind a star-filled sky. The temperature had risen since the fierce winds had calmed, too. He pulled up her chaise lounge and relaxed back into it to enjoy the symphony of his favorite night sounds. The dancing waves crashed against the shore, nearly drowning out the crickets' serenade. He was reminded again why he loved the shores of Southern California. He was so lost in his own wonderland of sight and sounds that he failed to hear Charlie's approaching footsteps.

"There you are," she exclaimed, a hint of irritation in her voice.

"What?" was his startled reply.

"I've been calling your name for the last five minutes, all the while trying not to wake the entire house."

"Sorry," he said meekly, turning his eyes back to his beloved sea.

She studied him for a moment in the starlight. He seemed more relaxed than when he'd first gotten home. She ruffled her fingers through his damp hair and smiled as his curls danced in the gentle ocean breeze.

"What's so funny?" he softly asked, reaching out to grasp her other hand.

"Nothing," she winked and moved closer to his side. "What'cha doing out here on my balcony?" Her fingers continued to stroke a soothing pattern across his scalp.

"Couldn't sleep," he shrugged, then answered honestly, "…Missing you."

"Were you now?" She flashed a lopsided grin, secretly thrilled by his rare admission of need, then skimmed the back of her fingers over his cheek. "And here I thought you enjoyed having the bed all to yourself those two weeks I was gone."

"Noooo," was his pouting reply.

Yet another admission of vulnerability, she thought. He was definitely on edge and feeling the heat of those accusatory words on the tape. She felt the guilt prick her heart, but vowed to continue her quest for the truth.

"Good to know," she gestured for him to scoot over and share the lounge chair.

He pulled her into his lap instead, facing him, her legs straddling his. He fingered the buttons of her current choice of sleepwear, "Uh, doesn't this shirt belong to me?"

"Yes," she responded, unfazed and not the least bit apologetic. "It was the only thing clean in the laundry room, and someone got my clothes all wet." Her fingertips grazed his chest before tangling in his hair.

For some reason it made him ridiculously proud and possessive to see her wearing his shirt. Of course, he'd never admit that sentiment to her! His fingers slid up the front band of the gray dress shirt, until they reached the first fastened button. Releasing the button from the hole, he worked his way down to the next and the next, repeating the same maneuver each step of the way. His eyes followed his journey with rapt attention, while hers watched the enthralled expression blossoming across his face.

When he'd finally unfastened the last button, he let the shirt gap open just enough to see her tanned skin beneath. He slowly traced his fingers down the exposed skin from the hollow of her throat to her lower abdomen. As he arrived at his desired location, his palm splayed tenderly across the skin below her navel, caressing the spot that nurtured their child.

Peering up, he gazed into her eyes with an intensity born of admiration and love. She casually draped her arms over his shoulders and leaned forward, placing a lingering kiss upon his lips. Her hair cascaded in ringlets and curls around his face, encasing them in a private world. He closed his eyes and reveled in the moment, breathing in all the love and comfort she to had to offer.

"I love you," he whispered into her ear, his beard lightly grazing her cheek, "…both of you." His lips paid homage to her earlobe, before drifting lower to the side of her neck. He nibbled at the delicate flesh, before sucking more greedily.

"Show me." Her words barely audible, tingled across his skin, raising the hair on the back of his neck. Her fingers tangled in his short locks, as she redirected him to her mouth.

His hand burrowed under her shirt, skimming along her side and cupping her breast. Her mouth went slack, as she suddenly gasped for air. Shivering at his touch, she froze momentarily, before seeking out his mouth again. His hand continued on around her back, holding her to him, as he rose from the chair. Her legs instinctively clenched his waist, as he carried her toward the bed.

When his legs bumped the edge of the mattress, he turned and relaxed his grip on her hips. She slid down his body inch-by-inch, careful to never lose their intimate contact. Once standing on her feet, she grasped the bottom edge of his t-shirt, gathering it in her hands, as she dragged it up his chest and over his head. He quickly divested her of the borrowed shirt, and one by one, their remaining clothes pooled on the floor.

She gently pushed him to sit on the bed, then, nudging his knees apart, stepped between his legs. Tipping his head back, she kissed him with determination and need, quickening their painfully slow pace. He returned her affection kiss for kiss, before pulling back to gaze into her eyes.

"Slow down." He kissed her tenderly on the lips, before speaking again. "Relax…feel…breathe." Each of his word was punctuated by another nip of her lips. His hands encircled her waist, drawing her tightly to him. Burying his face in her chest, he lost himself in her familiar scent.

"What?" she breathlessly replied, eyes dazed and unseeing from the building passion.

"Let's take it slow and easy this time." He paused for a moment, allowing the words to sink in. Then, collecting his thoughts, he inhaled deeply and finally spoke again. "I want to remember tonight for the rest of my life."

"Why?" She pulled back, clearly confused. Her trembling fingers skipped through his beard, before cupping his chin and raising his face to hers. She desperately needed answers but was simultaneously afraid of their finality. He immediately noticed the traces of fear building in her eyes.

"Are you going somewhere?" Her voice broke, as she finally voiced her deepest fear. Chewing on her bottom lip, she tried desperately to maintain her composure.

"No! No, of course not," he replied with conviction. His brow furrowed in concern. "Why would you even ask such a question?"

She silently shrugged before looking away, nervous and unsure of her earlier bold actions. He could feel the strain and tension overtaking her body. Tears shone brightly in her eyes.

"Charlie," He gently guided her face back to his. Gazing at her intently, he continued on, "I don't plan on leaving you…ever."

She nodded as a tear slipped down her cheek. He brushed away the dampness with the pad of his thumb, then followed its path with his lips. His arms clutched at her waist, pulling her into his lap. She dropped her chin to her chest, hiding her face from his piercing view. His fingers gently threaded through the dark strands of her hair, lifting them from her face.

"Charlie, baby, look at me."

She hesitated a moment, before slowly complying with his request; chin jerking slowly upward inch by inch. When her eyes finally met his, his smile was disarming and full of love. She felt the warmth of his breath as it fanned her face. His fingers tenderly caressed her cheek. And then he stilled his movements, his eyes penetrating hers.

"We decided to have a baby tonight, right?" Her eyes widened in awe, as she unconsciously nodded her assent.

"That's why I want to remember tonight, sweetheart," the emotion swirling in his eyes verified the truth of his words. "Tonight you gave me a wonderful gift…the chance for a child," his last words were spoken in the hushed tones of a prayer.

She leaned down then to kiss his forehead, softly as an angel whisper. She tenderly cupped his face, her thumb brushing against the warm skin of his cheek, before tripping over the stubble of his beard.

His eyes followed hers, searing into her soul, trying to communicate without words. Her fingers strummed through his hair, taming his unruly curls, before her arms circled his neck, and her cheek came to rest on the crown of his head.

She felt him melt into her embrace, as he clung to her tightly. Inhaling deeply, he released a harmonious sigh on a long expiration; it sounded more like sweet music than merely the sustenance of life. Sitting in the quiet room, each lost in the other's presence, she slowly became aware of his movements. His face turned into her neck, lips seeking out her skin.

Drawing her to him, he turned and laid her on the bed. Their lips met, tasted and teased, then returned for more. He rolled atop her, pinning her hands overhead. His lips and fingers found their way down her body. His touch was gentle and inquisitive; his fingers lingered over favorite sensitive patches of soft skin. His lips mapped the exposed terrain of her body. She tugged on his arms, trying to bring him back to her lips, but he was undeterred in his pursuit to memorize every inch of her.

She gave up her demands for his, relaxing into his touch, feeling their connection. They always seemed to be at such a frenzied pace, that the stark contrast enlivened her, making her feel his every stroke and caress. Her raw nerves crackled and sizzled, as his lips scorched her skin.

When he returned to her mouth, his movements slowed and stilled. He explored her with the tenderness and sweetness of longtime lovers. And when they joined, he pulled back to gaze into her eyes as they drifted shut in pleasure. His fingertips lightly grazed her eyelids, as his lips softly demanded, "Open them."

She fought to comply with his request, her lids fluttering before staying open. He studied her with a reverent awe, worshipping her with his every movement. Their bodies spoke their love, and when they finally broke, shuddering in each other's arms, he collapsed onto her. She held on tightly, allowing her fingers to stray over the damp skin of his back.

Seconds turned into minutes before he was conscious enough to scoop her up in his arms and roll onto his back. She relaxed against his chest, her face snuggling into his neck, as she fought to stifle a contented yawn. His fingers rhythmically stroked her skin, easing her into slumber.

He felt her motion cease, as her breath evened out within the space of minutes. As she entered dreamland, he watched her eyelids flutter and wished her the peace of gentle sleep. His fingers continuously stroked the skin of her side, marveling at its softness. She was always too busy caring for others to let others tend to her, so he vowed to watch over her as she dreamed. His sleeplessness was a small price to pay for the gift of her love.

As she slept on, his mind continued to whirl at a frantic pace. He sought every crevice of his mind for a solution to his nightmare. He was determined not to lose her, or this closeness that they shared. She was his love, his life, his very existence. The salvation of his soul. She'd managed to make him whole again; a feat he had doubted was even possible a year ago. He lightly kissed her forehead, careful not to wake her.

"I love you, Charlie, more than you could ever know," he whispered against her skin. "Don't ever doubt that, no matter what the future holds."

Of one thing he was certain: he had to find that damn tape, before it fell into the wrong hands. He vowed to clean up his mess, before it destroyed his world. Just one more lie to fix things, and then everything would be fine. Surely she would understand.

'_***'**_

_You are the avalanche_

_One world away_

_My make believing_

_While I'm wide awake_

_'*'_

_Just a trick of light_

_To bring me back around again_

_Those wild eyes_

_A psychedelic silhouette_

_'*'_

_I never meant to fall for you but I_

_Was buried underneath and_

_All that I could see was white_

_My salvation_

_My, my_

_My salvation_

_My, my_

_'*'_

_You are the snowstorm_

_I'm purified_

_The darkest fairytale_

_In the dead of night_

_'*'_

_Let the band play out_

_As I'm making my way home again_

_Glorious we transcend_

_Into a psychedelic silhouette_

_'*'_

_I never meant to fall for you but I_

_Was buried underneath and_

_All that I could see was white_

_My salvation_

_My, my_

_My salvation_

_My, my_

_My salvation_

_My, my_

_My salvation_

_My, my_

_'*'_

_My salvation_

_My, my_

_My salvation_

_My, my_

_My salvation_

_My, my_

_My salvation_

_My, my_

'_*****'**_

_To be continued…_

'_************'**_

* * *

_**AN:**__ All right, everyone, I wanted to give you a sweet and tender chapter, before the facts start to coalesce around our couple and the harshness of the truth hits the rocks on the shore. Buckle up, folks! The ride is about to get a lot bumpier!_


End file.
